Drabble Dabbles : DarkArts
by MiHnn
Summary: A collection of drabbles that I've written centered around the less fluffier version of Harry Potter. Various characters and pairing dabbling in Dark Arts. All submissions are rated R. Possible violence and character death. NEW - Bellatrix Lestrange
1. Hermione Granger : The End

**A/N - Written for Sorting Hat Drabbles on LiveJournal for week 76**

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**Characters : Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort & Hermione Granger**

**Prompt: Fall**

**Title:** The End.

**Words:** 499

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** Implied violence, character death.

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She was shivering again. It has been so long since her last attack, she had begun to hope that she was free of the incessant tremblings that have wracked her body for days. Her gaze fell on her trembling hands, bound tightly by magical ropes to the arms of a wooden chair. By now, she could see past the scratches, the blood, the dirt under her fingernails and concentrate on the uncontrollable twitching of her fingers. Gritting her teeth, she flexed them, curling them into tight fists in an attempt to control this, to fight this. She just needed to_ fight_ this.

"Ah! Miss Granger."

Hermione closed her eyes, the slick voice causing a different shiver to move up her spine; one of fear and disgust. Her breath passed her lips in short, light puffs, while the trembling she had tried to control, shook her so violently, she could think of nothing else. She felt the hard tip of a wand touch lightly under her chin, and obeyed as she followed its gentle nudging, raising her head compliantly. Having done the alternative to experience less than pleasant results, she lifted her lids slowly to meet the eyes of her kidnapper. And like every other time her gaze had fallen on him, she felt chilled to the bone. His snake-like skin pulled back to reveal a feral grin, one that she had come to dread.

"I have been most fortunate to have your services." His crimson red eyes sparked with something new, something that scared her. "But, alas, it seems that you have fulfilled your purpose."

She froze._ No! Harry- No! It couldn't be. He was safe. He has to be safe. She couldn't have failed him. He can't be dead!_

The Dark Lord's grin widened, as if he could read the panic that had suddenly seized her.

She tried to speak, the words choking out of her painfully. "You don't have him," she said firmly, even as the tears prickled painfully behind her eyes. "You're_ lying._"

He cocked his head to the side slowly, regarding her with a curious fascination. "And why would I lie? Did I lie when I spoke about the death of your other Order friends? Did I lie when I spoke about the fall of the Ministry?"

She was shaking her head incessantly. "No! You don't have Harry."

"No," he said it softly, as if in contemplation. But that was enough. Her heart beat had started racing again, as she felt a glimmer of hope. _He's alive! Thank Merlin! That's enough! _"But I will." With a movement as fluid as water, he aimed his wand at her chest. "Not even the boy-who-lived would be able to think straight, when he comes here to see the mangled body of the one he failed to rescue."

Her throat became inexplicably dry. This was it, then. Her end.

She never heard the curse, only felt the feeling of falling into darkness, into emptiness. And then, there was nothing.

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	2. Lucius Malfoy : Revenge

**A/N - Written for the Dark Arts Last Drabble Writer Standing Competition on LJ**

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**Characters: Lucius Malfoy and a canon character of your choice  
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**Prompt : Sectumsempra**

**Title:** Revenge

**Word Count:** 440

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** Violence, character death.

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His footsteps were slow, steady. The sound echoing, reverberating along the marble floor and large empty hallways. The Manor has never been known for warmth or laughter; but recently, even Lucius Malfoy found the sight depressing. He walked the well travelled route to the dungeons as he took in his surroundings suspiciously. After the Dark Lord fell, he had become wary of the shadows that lurk in the dark. There were those who didn't approve of how quickly he and his family had turned to the light after the Last Battle. That was none of their business, as far as he was concerned. They were Malfoys, a family with superior blood. And they answer to no one.

He entered the dungeons, a sneer on his face.

"Have you thought about my proposition? Or have you realized that your worthless life is of no consequence to anyone but to yourself?"

He was met with silence before Fenrir Greyback choked out a laugh. "They will find you. If it's not me, they will use someone else."

With one quick spell, Lucius pulled at the heavy chains that held the Wolfman's ankles and wrists, causing him to groan loudly as his body was pulled apart in four different directions. "I have no patience for this. Tell me, who's after us?"

Greyback groaned as his eyes shut in the perfect imitation of peaceful slumber. "Those who wish your death, and who will enjoy ripping out the scar you and your son hide."

At the mention of his son, Lucius felt his anger increase. "Don't you dare speak of my son," he sneered, his eyes promising death. He couldn't let anyone touch his son, not after what he had been through. "Speaking of Draco," Lucius continued in a calmer tone, "he was cursed once with a crafty spell that I was told, was very painful. Maybe you could tell me exactly what it feels like." He raised his wand, aiming straight at his prisoner's chest. "_Sectumsempra_."

Lucius had never seen anything like it. Greyback's skin was ripped apart in various angles and depths, the blood pouring out of each wound in a steady stream. Had Draco really gone through this? Had he yelled the same way this animal screeched?

The blood curdling screams echoed around the dungeons amidst the sound of howling pain. Lucius watched for a moment longer, his lips twisted in amusement, before he turned on his heel and left. He would send a house elf to get rid of the body later. No one liked blood on the walls, even if the walls were black stone hidden in the deepest, darkest dungeon.

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	3. Tom Riddle : Teaching Questions

**A/N - Written for Dark Arts LDWS Competition on LJ**

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**Characters: Tom Riddle and one canon character of your choice  
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**Title:** Teaching Questions

**Word Count: **449

**Rating:** PG- 13

**Warnings:** Implied murder.

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"Tom."

He schooled the dark scowl on his face into a mask of detached innocence before he turned to face his caller. "Professor."

Professor Dumbledore squinted slightly at him before his gaze surpassed him to land on the Mudblood he had so carelessly being eying in contempt. "It seems that Ms. Howard has quite a following."

Tom quickly glanced over his shoulder at the scene he had been studying. The Mudblood was surrounded by many; all those who were interested in furthering her cause of equality between all blood types. "It would appear that way, yes."

"It is about time that these blood prejudices be brought into the light and eradicated. Don't you agree?"

Those piercing blue irises scrutinized him further, making him realize that the old bat was trying to read him. "Yes, Professor," Tom said calmly, "Muggle-borns should be kept in their rightful place."

Dumbledore smiled slightly at him. "And what place would that be?"

The old goon was going to make him say it, the very words that made his blood curl. "Equal to all pure-bloods, Sir," Tom said sincerely, forcing himself not to hiss those words in disdain.

The smile on the Professor's face widened slightly, his eyes twinkling. "I'm glad you and I share the same sentiments, Tom."

A thought suddenly struck him. "Professor, it was recently brought to my attention that a few fifth years have been dabbling in Dark Arts."

Dumbledore eyed him carefully. "What sort of spells have they been dabbling in?"

"There are some that are quite harmless. But there is one; the Imperius Curse." Dumbledore's eyes narrowed ever so slightly behind his half moon spectacles. "I have come upon writings of that curse, but nothing that says exactly what it does or how to recognize it."

"I can't imagine why you would need to know that, Tom."

"For the students, Professor. I would like to be able to detect these spells when they happen. That way, the students responsible can be punished for their insolence."

Dumbledore's gaze was telling. "You need not know what that curse does. I assure you, if the Imperius Curse is implemented, we will know about it."

Tom had to stop himself from scoffing at his confident tone. "How is that possible, when the very premise of the curse is to be undetectable?"

Dumbledore looked at him silently for a moment. "I thought you didn't know exactly what it did."

"I don't," Tom said quickly, recovering from his mistake.

"It's best to keep it that way, then," Dumbledore said carefully.

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That winter, Melanie Howard committed suicide by jumping off the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore noticed only one person smile at her funeral; Tom Riddle.

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**Thank you to RoseScor90 for the Beta work :) **


	4. Sirius Black : Deluded Grief

**Characters: Sirius Black  
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**Title:** Deluded Grief

**Word Count: **571

**Rating:** PG- 13

**Warnings:** None.

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He was grieving.

They had pushed him to the ground, his cheek against the cold gravel as they yanked his arms behind him to hold him still.

He had stayed numb. He didn't say a word as they screamed in his face, eyes hard and words vile as they called him names and shoved his shoulder hard. He didn't protest when those circled around him as they pointed, jeered and told him of his guilt; outnumbered, he was, yet he couldn't find it in him to care.

He had never seen such hatred as they stared on, while his arms were yanked and he was pushed, stumbling but not quite falling while they pulled him away.

He still stayed silent while they spoke of him in loud tones, ignoring his presence as well as the possibility of his innocence. He sat there, torn clothes, dirt stuck to his skin and his eyes dead.

He had lost it all; everything he had ever wanted and everything he had ever loved.

There was more talking, more yelling, and still he felt numb.

He looked back at them with his eyes glazed, the defeat in them apparent for anyone to see.

Finally they pushed him into a room he knew he was going to be. A cell; no more than a few feet wide and a few feet high, with a door that slammed closed ominously with a 'bang', a sound reminiscent of the end. The smell was atrocious, the dark dreary hole seeming to match the eternal darkness that seemed to have settled in his heart. He walked around it once, then twice, then felt trapped.

His fingers circled the cold bars that kept him in, the iron burning him with its freezing frost, turning his skin red and sore. He stared at his scarred skin in wonder, the pain not having registered in his numb state. He knew it was supposed to hurt; why didn't it? Why didn't it hurt?

Did he know this was going to happen? In some, deep, deep, part of his soul, did he know that he would lose everything and be charged with his own destruction?

_No, _he thought. _It wasn't me._

His fingers tightened around the bars, his chest rising and falling quickly, the thought that started small growing big in his mind. _It wasn't me._

He gritted his teeth angrily, his eyes studying the dark, empty hall with contempt, while he remembered happy moments one by one. _It wasn't me._

He wouldn't have done it. He _couldn't_ have done it. And yet he was blamed, for _everything._

_"It wasn't me."_

He said it louder. _"It wasn't me."_

And louder. _"It wasn't me."_

He screamed it, yelled it, demanded he be heard. "It wasn't ME".

But all that met him was silence. Silence and stone and _nothing. _

It started in his chest; a hiccup, a grunt, and then he was chuckling. It started small at first, but grew, little by little it got louder, and bawdier and he was laughing. Sweet Merlin, he was _laughing. _

He had lost his friends, his freedom and he was convinced, his life. He had lost it all and he was laughing. Why shouldn't he?

After all, he was innocent. Sirius Black was innocent, damn you. Innocent of it all. He was locked away for something he hadn't done.

Yes, Sirius had lost everything. But at least he had his laughter.

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	5. Bellatrix Lestrange : A Game

**Characters: Bellatrix Lestrange, Hermione Granger  
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**Title:** A Game

**Word Count: **823

**Rating:** R

**Warnings:** Violence, swearing, and a lot of it.

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Her skin was so _soft_ and Bellatrix had spent the past half hour poking and prodding at it.

Humming tunelessly to herself, she took slow, calculating steps around the chair which housed her latest prisoner. Arms bound and back stiff, this recent collectible had the potential to be the most wonderful new play thing. Stopping thoughtfully, she bent down and touched the tip of her wand to the Mudblood's chin, a feral grin splitting her lips when the bitch flinched. She knew who this was; how could she not? Harry Potter's cunt. The brains of the golden trio...apparently.

Personally, Bellatrix didn't find the Mudblood all that threatening. She was scarcely older than a pup; a pup whose head she could easily dash against the marble floor of Malfoy Manor and listen to the familiar squishing sound of her brain turning into mush. She rather liked that sound. It reminded her of the first Mudblood child she had killed, a pretty little thing who kept calling for her 'mama'. Pity her blood was tainted.

Watching the brown eyes widen in panic, Bellatrix bit her lip in concentration, moving the tip of her wand slowly up the soft skin of her cheek, before pressing it so hard against the Mudblood's temple that a bruise could form. The bitch tried to squirm, but found it impossible to move her head when her neck was bound to the chair with chaffing ropes that rubbed her skin raw. Every movement strangled her, causing her breath to come out in small, shallow puffs. Cocking her head, Bellatrix regarded her with a small amount of fascination; she couldn't help but already like her.

Ever since she had seen the Mudblood with the horrendous hair at the Department of Mysteries and heard her most beloved Dark Lord mention about her prowess with knowledge and spells, a tiny little snake of jealousy had wriggled restlessly within her. Out of all the women in her Dark Lord's life, _she_ was the one who was the most skilled with curses, _she_ was the one who was the most loyal and she was the one who should be spoken of in such awe tones.

But, no. The Dark Lord mentioned this filth within the same sentence as her name.

Sneering at the memory, Bellatrix moved the wand lower to the base of her neck before discharging a small stinging hex. The bitch jumped, and Bellatrix smiled.

"Tell me again, is the sword real?"

The defiance in the Mudblood's eyes fascinated her, she actually thought that she was equal to a pure-blood, Bellatrix could see it.

Moving behind her with a quick movement, she yanked her hair back so her throat was exposed, pressing her wand harder against her skin. "Tell me."

She had pulled the Mudblood's head so far back that she was choking, a tiny tear trail sneaking out of the corner of her eye as she sobbed and tried to breathe. Bellatrix yanked harder.

"I...It's not. It's fake."

This was getting tiresome. Almost with a bored tone, Bellatrix aimed the wand at the bitch's breast and said softly, _'Crucio_'.

She arched in the chair, her teeth gritting in pain. But that didn't stop her from letting out a blood curdling scream as the pain wracked her body. Licking her lips slowly, Bellatrix shoved the Mudblood's head away from her. Taking slow steps, she went to stand before the bitch as she smiled sweetly at her, her wand moving between her fingers in a practiced motion. "Tell me again."

"It's not-"

"_Crucio."_

Again the Mudblood screamed, begging her to stop the pain and saying again and again that the sword was a fake. Each scream only made her giggle as she swirled around on the spot. Bellatrix watched her robes flutter around her and found the movement terribly interesting. For a moment, she forgot about the screaming Mudblood until she spotted her from the corner of her eye. With a quick flick of her wand, she lifted the curse.

Her chest was rising and falling in quick succession, tears were streaming down her cheeks and her body was squirming. Bellatrix cocked her head to the side in thought. If it weren't for that hair, she could have been passably pretty.

Smiling affectionately, Bellatrix moved closer, bending forward so that her lips were a mere inch from the crying Mudblood's. "Tell me again," she whispered.

A moment passed, and Bellatrix thought she might say nothing. But then, she said softly, "It's not real."

Bellatrix's smile widened. "_Crucio_," she said in delight as she watched the Mudblood arch and scream and beg, her eyes watching the contorting muscles in fascination.

This was her favourite part. Others might want to use the Imperius Curse, or even Veritaserum. But for Bellatrix, there was nothing better than hearing them scream.

After giving the Mudblood a minute of rest, she leant forward and said one more time, "Tell me again."

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End file.
